


Flip a Coin - Choose Both Sides

by the_overlord



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fanboy Johnny, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, High School, Kind of AU, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, so much 'witty' banter, teenage angst, wrong number cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_overlord/pseuds/the_overlord
Summary: Wherein Johnny Storm gets given a wrong number and ends up the President of Spiderman's fanclub.Things get a little more complicated from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have very little idea where any of this came from. But I hope you enjoy it. There will be more drama to follow as soon as I stop melting from the ridiculous heatwave. I live in England, it should be rainy and cold.

Peter had decided that the day had been far too long already by the time he’d settled on the edge of an apartment building roof for a quick dinner. As if to prove his point, his phone vibrated in his bag just as he was about to bite into the sandwich he’d hastily slapped together that morning. Sighing around a mouthful of peanut butter, he pulled it free from the loose wrappers and receipts littering the bottom of his rucksack. A small, pixelated envelope sat patiently on the screen, waiting for Peter to open it. Instead, he let the moment linger just a little longer.

There was a slight chill in the air as the sun set, but it wouldn’t really be cold for another month. It was that perfect combination of late enough that no one would spot him lingering on the skyline, but early enough that the streets were still partially packed with the low thrum of life that vibrated through the city. The smell of warm bread and exhaust fumes wafted around him from both the deli 7 floors down and the slowly moving line of cars edging round the block. Peter tilted his head back and breathed in the evening. The sky in the distance was pastel pink but above him, it was deep blue and littered with pinpricks of energy shining from light years away. Soon the stars would be lost in the light pollution of a city at night, but for this second they were there, winking from galaxies away.

His phone vibrated again against his palm.

Somewhere in the city someone needed Spiderman.

Peter had been oddly put out when he’d realised that his bruised and battered 9-year-old Nokia had basically become his version of the Bat Signal. The Bugle had somehow caught on to the fact that there was a number out there for the boys in blue and the various super teams to contact him through and had dubbed it the ‘Spider-Line’. He maintained that a spider in the sky would have been infinitely cooler. Then again, it kind of made sense – his version of the Bat Mobile was a fourth hand bicycle and his version of the ‘alleged’ Bat Cave was the fifth floor apartment above an all-night casino he shared with his Aunt. He thought about the Avengers and the X-men and The Fantastic Four and concluded – as he often did – that he really was the discount superhero. The Walmart of Power Town, the $2 crab roll among the Beluga Caviar.

A horn blared somewhere below him and he unlocked his phone, already climbing to his feet.

[2 NEW MESSAGES]

 **_> 20:32 - _ ** _Hey, so when are we catching that movie then? I thought I’d show a little mercy and not make you wait too long to see me again ;)_

 **_> 20: 35 - _ ** _…This is Johnny by the way_

Peter stared blankly at his phone, slowly sitting back down on the roof edge. For a second he considered ignoring it but then it vibrated again as a new message came through.

 **_> 20:36 - _ ** _From the show the other day_ _:)_

The dude definitely used too many emoticons for Peter’s liking but that probably wasn’t a good enough reason to let the guy think he was being ignored.

 **_< 20:36 – _ ** _Sorry, I think you have the wrong number_

The response came through almost instantly – ‘Johnny’ must have been waiting eagerly by his phone. Peter felt a little bad for the guy.

 **> _20:37 –_** _Um I don’t think so_ _:(_

Peter felt less bad for the guy.

Before he could respond, his phone lit up with a new message from Det. Mardale. An actual call to action. Of all the NYPD Detectives, she was one of his favourites - always happy to work with Spiderman when the villains got a little too supercharged for her taste, and treating him with common decency instead of the usual scorn and distrust. Apparently this time it was Electro wreaking havoc at a white goods warehouse down by Fort Hamilton – what he was looking to do with a thousand fridges, Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to know.  

After messaging Det. Mardale to let her know he was on his way, Peter was about to chuck his phone back into his bag when it went off again. And then three more times in rapid succession. Under his mask he went three shades paler.

 ** _> 20:39 _**_– What? Are you feeling ok?_

**_> 20:40 – _ ** _Ooh is this is kinky thing??? Like bondage role-play? I can’t say I get the web thing though_

 **_> 20:40 – _ ** _…oh god. This really isn’t Julie is it?_

 **_> 20:40 – _ ** _IS thiS SPIFRMAAN?_

Above them in the inbox his own message stared back at him accusingly – resolutely _not_ addressed to Det. Mardale.

 **_< 20:39 _ ** _– On my way. Tell Sparky if he starts monologuing again I’ll web his mouth shut._

And then his phone rang.

On autopilot Peter answered it, very glad for the voice modulator attached to the suit that made him sound less like the weedy 16 year old nerd he was, and more like a badass, web-slinging superhero that hadn’t just wrong-texted some horny frat boy named Johnny.

…He should probably stop answering the phone with ‘Spider-line, what’s the crime?’ though.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone and then Peter was reeling in the wake of the fastest set of sentences he’d ever been subjected to. Even having met Quicksilver _and_ the Flash on two separate occasion.

‘Holy crap, holy shit, holy mother of New York City herself. Is this real, are you real? I mean I know you are real as in you’re a real person because you don’t really sound like a robot – but are you really Spiderman? The web-slinger himself? The most mysterious and second coolest and hottest hero around?’ A brief pause ‘Oh god, I asked Spiderman out to see a movie. Wait, did Julie give me a fake number then? Oh god _Spiderman_ knows I got fake numbered and then I asked him if he was into bondage-’

Peter, who had realised he was on the clock and couldn’t really wait around politely for the torrent of words to dry up, slipped the phone between his ear and the mask and leapt off the rooftop in the direction of Fort Hamilton.

‘Second coolest and hottest huh?’

Johnny trailed off, before chuckling down the line. It was a nice sound, - low and happy. Harry had once told Peter that his laugh sounded like a wheezing beaver being punched repeatedly in the stomach. But Harry kind of sucked.

‘Yeah, even Spidey can’t beat the Human Torch. That guy’s awesome right?’

Even down the phone Peter could hear the smirk in Johnny’s voice, smug and almost challenging in a confusing sort of way. Peter pulled his webbing taut and tucked his body up to avoid ruining some lovely potted tulips on the ledge of a building.

‘Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure but he reminds me a little too much of my high school bullies for me to wanna grab a drink with the guy you know.’ Not to mention Peter wasn’t anywhere near the drinking age but considering everyone somehow seemed to think he was in his mid-20s at least, Peter wasn’t going to mention that one.

‘But hey, that’s me – you think what you want of Captain Matchstick.’ He paused and then added ‘I’d definitely win in a fight though.’

Johnny squawked down the line, and Peter could almost imagine the pout on the guy’s face.

‘Like hell you would, there’d be roast spider all over the place before you could even get a web off.’

Peter laughed again, and the phone slipped a little in his mask. He wondered if this guy was in the Human Torch fan club or something. He probably bought all the merch and went to the meet and greets just to breathe the same air as his hero. He probably had a room covered in posters of The Fantastic Four looking all hot and powerful with hearts scribbled all over Johnny Stor-

Of _fucking_ course.

‘Look man, I get that you think the guy is the best thing since burnt bread but I’ve heard the guy’s a bit of a dick really.’ Johnny spluttered down the line but Peter carried on talking over him ‘If you want my advice, you should think about investing that passion into a more worthwhile hero. My fan club always has space for a new member if you’re interested. And you know, I can promise that I’ve never wrong numbered a superhero and then bragged about my alter ego to them – I don’t think NiteBright can say the same, do you?’

There was a prolonged silence and then Johnny huffed out a laugh.

‘Busted.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, no shame in losing to the better hero.’

There was another squawk and it was somehow a lot more satisfying knowing it was Johnny Storm making the horrible noise down the phone. Peter had seen him on magazine covers looking perfect and airbrushed; he had seen him interviewed on TV surrounded by adoring fans. He had to say, this was way more gratifying.

Peter rounded another corner just in time to see a washing machine launch through the air in front of him and knock a hole through a brick wall. In the near distance, he could see a figure stood in a loose circle of police cars and onlookers, crackling with electricity. Pulling himself onto the nearest warehouse roof, he dropped his ratty backpack and then shoved his hand up his mask to grab the phone.

‘Look Johnny this has been nice and all; real entertaining, highlight of my night for sure, but I’m going to have to let you go so I can smack some sense into the one man power grid currently wreaking havoc on some innocent dockside workers. Sorry about Julie, my people will contact yours regarding your application to the fan club. See ya.’

Then he hung up before Johnny could answer; dumped the phone with his bag, and swung out towards the crowd, mind already on the fight and far away from Johnny Storm. 

 

* * *

 

Call him naïve but Peter had kind of figured that would be the end of it.

At the most he thought he might run into the Human Torch somewhere along their shared career path and they’d kick bad-guy butt, make a couple of quips about fan clubs and fake numbers, and be on their way.

He should have remembered he was talking about Johnny Storm and not a regular, rational person.

The fight with Electro had turned out to be refreshingly straightforward. Peter had swung in, pulling Dillon’s attention from the police cars and the cowering officers, and then proceeded to leap around the ribbons of electricity looking for an opening. One of them had caught his left wrist when he’d strayed too close, but Peter hadn’t really minded the brief flash of pain when he’d realised he could use the distraction to boot Electro straight in the face before webbing his ankles and wrists to the floor.

For good measure, he’d webbed his mouth shut too.

The real work had come after that when Peter realised he’d interrupted Electro right in the middle of his strange little heist, and boxes of fridges, dishwashers, washing machines and freezers were scattered precariously around the loading bay. It had taken thirty seconds of watching a stocky guy and a small woman with a pixie cut almost kill themselves trying to rebalance a toppling fridge before he swooped in and resigned himself to a couple of hours hauling boxes.

By the time he finally dragged himself into his bedroom and collapsed onto his sheets, he was dirty, aching and desperately tired. He considered actually screaming in frustration when his phone rang again. Instead, he sat up, pulled the voice modulator from his costume and clipped it to his t-shirt.

‘What?’

‘Woah there Spidey, tough night?’

Peter could already feel a headache building behind his eyes.

‘What do you want Johnny?’

There was a small pause and then Johnny’s voice came back down the line, quieter and almost too genuine for Peter to deal with at 23:47 on a Wednesday.

‘I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You hung up so quickly I think I got whiplash and I’m not really sure if you have back up or a team or anything so I figured I’d check you weren’t smouldering in a heap somewhere in Manhattan.’

‘That’s… unexpectedly nice Johnny, thanks. No smouldering here though, just aching muscles and a desperate longing for a nice, warm, soapy shower.’

Johnny cleared his throat and part of Peter wondered why he sounded so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Most of him was too tired to care.

‘Was there anything else I can do for you tonight Flaming Wonder?’

‘Not really, hey can your phone receive document attachments?’

Peter padded out of the room, and switched on the shower, hoping that the hot water boiler wasn’t on the fritz again.

‘This phone is about 9 years old so I doubt it.’

The pipes spluttered a couple of times but eventually a steady stream of warm water started pouring out and pattering on the base of the tub.

’9 years old? Why the hell is your phone 9 years old? Did mobile phones even exist back then? Weren’t there just rotary phones and people answering the phone with ‘Ahoy’?’

‘It’s not my main phone, it pretty much only exists as an emergency line. You’re the only one that keeps using it for social calls, god knows why.’

‘I think you’re cool,’ Johnny said simply and Peter had to pause halfway through slipping off his shoes and socks to choke on his laughter. Johnny may not have been aware of the ‘teenage’ part of Peter’s whole ‘smart mouthed-teenage-nerd-reject’ thing he’d got going on, but the other parts weren’t exactly a secret if you watched the news or read The Bugle. Compared to a guy who’d gone to space when he was 16, was part of one of New York’s Power Teams and had a smile that made everyone in a 1 mile vicinity melt, Peter was a joke.

‘Can I have your personal number then?’

‘Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen.’

‘What about an email address?’

[Peter_Parker2001@gmail.com](mailto:Peter_Parker2001@gmail.com). Perhaps a little too obvious.

‘Yeah, that’s a no-go too I’m afraid.’

‘Well then how am I supposed to get you your application? I can’t imagine you’re going to give me your actual address and even if you did I don’t know where Sue keeps the stamps.’

The room was heating up with steam and Peter shucked off his jeans, instantly regretting it when he was left in just his t-shirt and boxers as Johnny complained down the line.

‘Application?’ he queried.

‘To the fan club.’ Peter swore he could hear him grinning.

Johnny Storm was officially an idiot.

Peter Parker was officially a sucker, because he apparently found it endearing.

He sighed as he stared at his cloudy reflection in the mirror. Despite himself, he was smiling.

‘Friday night, 8:30. I eat dinner at the top of the Statue of Liberty so if you want to drop off your fan-boy resume, that would probably be your best option.’

Peter heard the pop of a pen lid, and then the scratching of pen against paper before Johnny murmured around what was probably a pen cap.

‘Friday, 8:30, Lady Liberty. Got it.’ There was a spitting sound and then Johnny’s voice came through unobstructed.

‘Very romantic, A+ Spidey, consider it a date.’

Before Peter could object, the line went dead.

Evidently, neither of them were capable of ending a conversation like a normal human. To be fair, neither of them seemed to be very good at starting conversations like normal people either so maybe it made a poetic sort of sense. Peter shrugged, stepped out of his remaining clothes and resolved to deal with it whenever it inevitably blew up in his face, and not a second sooner.

* * *

 

Friday was overcast when it rolled in, but the morning showers had cleared by the time Peter swung onto the Statue of Liberty’s torch and settled in with a sausage roll, two slices of cold pizza, and a thermos of chicken soup to fight the scratch in his throat he’d noticed when he’d woken up that morning. Just because the illnesses moved through him significantly faster now didn’t mean they didn’t still suck when he got them.

He checked his phone.

20:22

A small part of Peter still expected Johnny to bail, but somehow a larger part of him figured Johnny didn’t seem the type to let a joke go. He’d be there, probably running late and with perfect hair, grinning as he presented a crumpled CV covered in multi-coloured hearts and several doodles of spiders. Maybe he should recommend him to the Deadpool fanbase instead, Wade would definitely appreciate a colourful doodle.

In actuality, Peter spotted a burst of light hurtling in his direction at 20:25. He checked the mask was securely over his eyes and nose, and fiddled with the voice modulator until he was sure that it was in place. Then he wiped a hand across his mouth and fought the urge to use his phone screen to check his teeth because this wasn’t actually a date and he shouldn’t actually care that his breath probably stank of onion.

Johnny landed gracefully, the flames licking at his suit flickering out. There was an uncomfortable minute where they stared at each other across a national icon, fully suited and booted, but then Johnny crossed the distance and collapsed noisily next to Peter and the tension deflated.

‘I can’t believe you’re actually up here. I thought for sure that you were messing with me.’

Johnny’s hair ruffled artfully in the breeze and Peter tucked down his sudden nervousness.

‘Nah, I couldn’t let that happen to you twice man, consider it a public service.’

Peter took another bite of pizza and noted that when Johnny laughed he laughed with his whole body.

‘Oh, I see how it is. Get rejected by a Victoria’s Secret model and win a date with your local superhero? Not a bad deal really when you think about it.’

‘Wait, you asked out a Victoria’s Secret model? Didn’t you just turn 17? I mean I know you’re rich and attractive and have the whole Human Torch thing going on, but even so that’s a ballsy move dude.’

 He noticed his mistake at the same time Johnny did. Peter flushed, hoping to every God he had and hadn’t met, that it wasn’t visible on his exposed jawline. Conversely, Johnny seemed to be glowing. He leant back on his arms and grinned at Peter, his smile only growing when he realised that Peter was avoiding his eyes.

‘What can I say, evidently I’m irresistible. And like you said, I’m 17 now. NYC baby, age is just an age as long as it’s legal.’

He punched the air weakly and fell a bit more into Peter’s space.

‘Yeah, so irresistible a woman gave you my number instead of hers.’

‘Ok, can we stop bringing that up? It’s really starting to sting. Aren’t you supposed to be nice on a first date?’

‘Firstly, obviously not a date.’ Peter gestured first at himself and then at the remnants of his dinner-for-one. ‘Secondly, it’s the only thing I really know about you lovemuffin, and it’s very embarrassing for you, so of course I’m going to milk it for all it is worth. And thirdly, I feel like your ego’s doing well enough on its own so it can stand to take a verbal beating or two. It’s like I said, I’m doing a public service.’

‘You know I’m starting to get why the Bugle hates you.’

‘What can I say, it’s part of the charm.’

They lapsed into an almost comfortable silence, staring out over the Upper Bay as the sun set before them. The heavy, grey rain clouds loomed in the distance, as if waiting in the wings for their cue. Somehow just looking at them, Peter knew he was going to end the night soaked through. But at that moment he was dry and full and the residual warmth coming off of Johnny was unexpectedly pleasant and he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

* * *

 

He’d been right, the heavens had opened at around 10 o’clock and the downpour was still going strong when Peter dragged himself through his window an hour later and proceeded to create a small puddle on his floor.

Johnny had zipped off just after 9:30, flatteringly reluctant and promising to keep an eye open for crime on his way home. Before leaving though, he’d produced a small envelope from a pocket in his suit that Peter hadn’t even been aware of, and thrust it into Spiderman’s gloved hands.

‘As promised, now at least you’ll know more about me than just my recent dating history.’

‘I’m still definitely going to bring it up whenever I can though.’

Johnny had smiled fondly – and Peter only briefly panicked at how much he already liked that smile.

‘Yeah I know. See you around Spidey.’

Peter wondered whether Johnny had beat the rain home, or whether his penthouse apartment had similar water stains dotting the solid oak floors. He probably had 17 maids to follow him around with mops and buckets, and a personal butler monkey to launder his sodden suit. Peter had his own personal mop and a halfway broken washer dryer, so who was really winning?

It wasn’t until he was settled in his pyjamas, finishing off the math homework he’d tried to rush through at lunch, that he remembered the envelope Johnny had given him.

It was clear that Johnny had searched ‘CV template’ on Google and filled out the first one he’d found. The formatting was clean and professional, but sadly, even from the first glance Peter could tell that was where the professionalism ended. Even his email address was listed as: yaboiJStorm@gmail.com.

It started strong with some kind of scatter-brained introductory paragraph:

 

**_Dear Spidey Fan Club Administration Team,_ **

**_Allow me to submit my humble application to become a member – nay, a leader – of such a prestigious and worthy team. I am a semi reliable, rich bitch who is willing to learn on the job (whatever that may mean) and I can meet deadlines as long as I write them on some part of my body in waterproof ink otherwise it’s 50/50. I am equally good at kicking criminal butt and opening fan mail so admin or avenging I’m a pretty solid guy to have around, plus I have back up if things get really dicey. However, my real skill would probably have to be PR – I mean have you seen what I’ve gotten away with and yet the media loves me. I feel like Spiderman needs a bit of a rep boost, or you know, someone needs to burn the Bugle to the ground (fire is somewhat of a specialty). Either or. HIRE ME. Please see below an itemised list of reasons I will get this role._ **

From there it somehow got worse

Under ‘Experience’ he’d written:

**_;) Wouldn’t you like to find out…_ **

Under ‘Education’ he’d written:

**_I’m a B- student (but a D+ where it counts – if you know what I meeeeeaaaan). I play football. Don’t talk to me about wrestling, those guys are dicks._ **

But Peter’s favourite part had to be the section at the bottom of the page:

Under ‘Special Skills’ he’d written:

  * **_I’m very good at perfectly cooking smores. Golden brown, every time_**
  * **_I CAN FLY!_**
  * **_I can rap the entire Yeezus album_**
  * **_Once a wasp landed on my hand and didn’t sting me so I think I probably have some sort of wasp magic in me. I named him Jeremy. He doesn’t write and I miss him._**
  * **_My resting body temperature is 104°C – I’m always in fever mode baby._**
  * **_I have at least 4 abs (I’m working on it)_**
  * **_Ben once implied he might vaguely tolerate me – Ben doesn’t vaguely tolerate anyone_**



 

Peter found himself grinning harder than he had in a long while. He read through the CV a few more times, laughing out loud at the surprisingly well done doodles curling around the paragraphs. There was a large fanged spider drooping down from the top left corner, a small Spiderman climbing up the outer edge of the page and, an absurdly muscled Human Torch zipping around the ‘special skills’ section trailing a ‘Spiderman for President’ banner. In the space at the bottom there was a blocky recreation of the Statue of Liberty with two tiny figures waving from her crown. The drawing was cramped but it did look like Johnny had drawn the little figures holding hands.

Peter wanted to do something ridiculous like pin the paper to his cork board next to his entry confirmation email for a local photography competition and his 1st place certificate from the inter-school Science Fair the year before. But the thing was littered with Spiderman references and he’d rather not have to explain it to Aunt May. Instead he slipped it into the drawer by his bed continued to smile until he fell asleep.

* * *

Johnny got the job.

Peter called him the following day from a different rooftop, still slightly sweaty from running down two thieves, one of which probably could have competed in the Olympics if he wasn’t more fixated on antique watches. A crowd had gathered by the time he had webbed the second guy to a convenient lamppost and he’d assumed the ‘Hero Pose’ he was still trying to master, telling them with all the authority he could muster, to call the police. One man had whipped out his phone instantly, a second had hesitated, looked down at the smoothie in his hand, and then lobbed it at Peter. He’d dodged it, most of the pink mess hitting the bad guy still stuck on the lamppost, but some of the splatter had made it up to Peter’s thighs and he left the entire situation feeling pretty pissed off and sticky.

He’d dialled the phone without really thinking, and annoyingly, as soon as Johnny picked up the phone Peter felt some of the anger slip away. By the time Peter had finished explaining the Smoothie Asshole and Johnny was cackling down the line, Peter could barely recall the low burn of annoyance he’d started with. There was just a suspicious warmth in its place.

So it became a habit.

Whenever Peter was upset at life or angry at his not so adoring public, he’d call Johnny. There was something about the guy – he was obnoxious, arrogant and had a pretty horrendous sense of humour, but for some reason Peter liked it. Three weeks in, he stopped dead in the middle of washing his face, soap clinging to his eyebrows, when he realised he actually _missed_ it. That was probably a problem.

But that didn’t stop them talking or meeting up. Nor did the fact that Johnny still thought Peter was in his mid twenties at least. Several times Peter had had to remind himself that he was actually _younger_ than Johnny to stop himself from feeling like such a perv. Especially as Johnny had only ramped up the flirting and Peter had found himself playing along a surprising number of times.

When week four rolled around and Peter realised he _liked_ Johnny, he barely batted an eyelid. He did however buy a tub of own brand ice cream on his way home and eat half of it using an ice cream scoop. But that was neither here nor there.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter hated Football Season.

His whole school seemed to have taken the American cliché to heart and suddenly there were cheerleaders whooping on every corner, letterman jackets barging past every locker, and announcements on the hour rejoicing in recent wins and upcoming games. It was pretty frustrating for the fraction of the school not really involved in the festivities and downright miserable for the losers like Peter who were an outlet for the pent up adrenaline and aggression the team seemed to live on between games.

It wasn’t even the violence really. Peter had seen his fair share of high school movies in his time and he could safely say that the nerds on screen got a far rawer deal than he did. The extent of his physical bruising was an occasional locker shove, a trip in the hallway or that one time he’d been smacked in the face with a science textbook – though that had almost definitely been an accident judging by the immediate apology. Mainly he just got insulted, ridiculed, and lightly jostled. Honestly, apart from MJ, Gwen and Harry, he was convinced that no one at the school even really knew his name judging by the creative array of titles he’d amassed in his years at the school.

But even that wasn’t what Peter hated most. That special spot was reserved for the tiny, brain dead part of himself that thought it would be a good idea to sign up as the Sports photographer.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Aunt May had said

‘It’ll be great on a College Application’ Gwen had decided

‘All those cheerleaders jumping around, think about the view Pete.’ Harry had interjected

‘All those guys in tight shorts, think about the view Pete.’ MJ had countered

And Peter, being Peter, had decided that that all sounded pretty good. And it wasn’t until he’d signed on the dotted line, and was crammed on a bus full of rowdy, athletic teenagers for the first time, that he realised he may have made a bit of a mistake.

Peter cowered in the back row of the bus, pressed against the cool glass of the window, as teenagers almost twice his size raised absolute hell in the aisles. Adrenaline was high and even the teachers in the front two rows had given up on trying to exert any control. As long as no one was getting hurt, they were content to keep staring straight ahead and leave Peter to fend for himself.

Thankfully, they were playing locally and in just under an hour Peter was released onto unfamiliar grass, cradling his camera bag protectively, and breathing large lungfuls of fresh air.

Game day spirit had definitely made its mark on Glendale High as well. There were students and parents everywhere, waving banners, repping school colours and cheering seemingly at random. Peter followed the team towards their locker room area, ducking out before the door. He’d made the mistake once of going straight in with them, and he’d learnt pretty quickly that while they had no shame, Peter definitely did. Instead he lingered by the door, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

Growing bored, he snapped off a couple quick shots, but the hallway was too dim for him to really gage anything useful and the beige walls weren’t exactly inspiring. Shouldering his bag he followed the muffled noise of a hyped up crowd and emerged next to the field. The crowds were steadily trickling in, now split evenly between the stands and the parking lot, so Peter joined the stream and found himself a spot at the very front of the bleachers where he could catch most of the field.

Some of the home team were already on the field, watching the cheerleaders stretch or huddled around their bench. Figuring this was as good a scene as any to test with, Peter raised the camera again and adjusted the settings to account for the glare of sun stripping the field. He took a couple of the group as a whole, caught a hearty backslap between the quarterback and the wingback, and silhouetted the field against the slowly sinking sun. Eventually, he edged a little closer to change the angle and zoomed in on one of the players as they laughed, helmeted head tipped back towards the sky. It was such an All Star photo, the kind you’d see on the front of a college catalogue next to a carefully diverse group of students studying on a lawn. A kind of picture-perfection Peter was desperate to capture. He was so focused on getting the perfect shot – the right angle, the right shadows, the right position – he missed when one of the other players twisted slightly, looking back towards the bleachers, before nudging his laughing teammate.

As Peter checked the photos he’d taken, two of them split away from the bench, and he felt the uncomfortable niggle of his Spider Sense flash up in the back of his mind. Sure enough, when he raised his eyes from the display screen, the two players were directly below him on the field, staring up at him with their helmets removed.

Peter hadn’t even considered that he might run into Johnny outside of the super world of suited escapades. The Human Torch and Spiderman ran in very similar circles, but Peter Parker and Johnny Storm might as well have been different continental species. But apparently the animal kingdom had made a mistake and Peter was staring down into a face he knew incredibly well, while said face stared right back with absolutely no recognition.

‘Hey, camera boy. What are you doing?’

Confusedly, Peter lifted his camera as if to present it to them. It was on a strap looped around his neck and he jerked forward as the camera raised. He was blushing almost instantly.

‘Taking pictures?’

It didn’t come out as the statement he’d intended it to be and the two guys looked appropriately apprehensive. Johnny scoffed and Peter realised with a start that he was annoyed. He’d never seen Johnny annoyed before.

‘Yeah I get that, I could practically feel the lens up my ass. And I get that it’s exciting that you’re seeing me and everything, but this game is kind of important and I need to focus on it. I’m flattered that you’re a fan, I know my ass looks great in the uniform, but can you please cut out the relentless photos. You took, like, a hundred, I’m sure you’ve got one of me that’s acceptable.’

Back with his team the coach had approached the bench and was gesturing at them to return. His friend jogged back over, presumably to tell the coach what was happening, but Johnny remained behind, still focused on Peter. Peter who was still beet red and flustered.

‘I wasn’t –‘

Johnny raised a hand dismissively, and Peter trailed off. With a smug little smile on his face, Johnny raised his voice loud enough for everyone in the near vicinity to hear.

‘Look, I’ve heard it all before, I know it comes with the territory, and I’m not mad I’m just saying there’s probably a time and place. And, you know, boundaries. I can’t exactly stop everyone snapping pictures of me when I’m out in public, but everyone else just took one or two. You’ve been here for a solid five minutes just taking pictures of me and it’s a little annoying dude. Celebrities are people too, you know.’

Peter felt the switch happen inside him. He felt the eyes watching him, judging him. He felt the moment that the embarrassment and nervousness melted away into a low thrum of anger and annoyance.

He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. He hadn’t even known it was Johnny, but oh boy did Johnny have the ego to make sure it was all about him. But more than anything else Peter couldn’t help but be insulted that Johnny would talk to _him_ like that. They were friends, they’d known each other for months now, Peter was harbouring not so friendly feelings for the guy, but here he was getting off on embarrassing a complete stranger just because he could. Of course Johnny didn’t know who he was, but somehow that was worse because he’d known, he’d _known_ , Johnny wouldn’t bat an eyelid in his direction when he was just plain old sixteen year old Peter Parker, but he’d never imagined he’d actively target him. He hadn’t thought Johnny was that guy.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been wrong, but it was the first time it had hurt so much to realise it.

‘First of all,’ he said, voice steady and cold, ‘I’m surprised your helmet fits with a head as big as yours. Don’t you worry it’ll get stuck as soon as you look at all your adoring fans in the crowd? Because they can’t be taking pictures of the team, or the field, or that cloud that looks like a mouse, no, every single one of them has to be taking a picture of you, don’t they? Secondly, don’t come at me like the magnanimous celebrity, politely asking me to stop taking pictures of you when you are well aware you are talking loudly enough for the entire field to hear. You want everyone to know you’re a douchebag, don’t be coy about it. And thirdly, to answer your original question, I’m taking pictures. Because I am a photographer. More specifically I am the sports photographer for Midtown High. You know your opposition. I thought I’d crack out a couple of test shots while I was waiting, to make sure everything was alright, and I figured getting some shots of the opposing team might be a good idea. I hadn’t realised one of them was a raging dickbag with his head up his ass. That was my mistake.’

Johnny was frowning up at him, looking confused and a little lost, and Peter almost felt for him even as he relished the victory. Behind him, Johnny’s teammates were shifting awkwardly and the coach looked irritated. Peter’s own blood was heated under his skin, and he could feel himself breathing slightly too fast even as he smiled viciously at his friend. He had a library of words on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out, but Johnny had been right about one thing at least, this was not the time or place.

He pushed back from the rail he had been gripping too tightly, and ran a hand through his hair sighing. Across the field his own team was stepping onto the grass.

‘Alright hotshot, I’ll make you a deal. You keep your opinions about me to yourself for the rest of my stay here at your lovely school, and I’ll make sure me and my lens stay as far away from you as possible. Deal?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and walked away, leaving Johnny and his handful of hopes, behind.

* * *

 

The game itself had been dramatic with it going into overtime before Glendale finally clinched the victory by a single point. Peter had felt right at home amidst the dejected and subdued players on the bus back to their school. No one bothered him but he’d surprisingly received a couple of half-hearted consolation claps on the back from the team, and he figured he’d let them believed his mood was due to his school spirit finally peeking through, rather than due to the complete emotional collapse happening inside of him.

He’d honestly thought Johnny was a good guy. He’d never hidden that he was an arrogant, egotistical asshole, but before it had always been annoyingly endearing. He’d always meant well. But apparently that had been a lie, some sort of act put on for Spiderman, and Peter Parker wasn’t worth the façade. Peter Parker wasn’t worth anything.

Trust Johnny _fucking_ Storm to make him jealous of himself.

His patrol that evening was relatively quiet and Peter cut it short, content that he would wake up to the city still standing in the morning. He changed quickly, saying a quick goodnight to Aunt May on her way out, before retreating to the comfort of his bed and laptop.

He’d barely sat down before the Spider-line phone pinged.

Early on in his friendship with Johnny he’d decided he needed to find a way to differentiate between the work calls and social calls the phone was now getting. He’d settled on picking the most annoying text tone he could find and attaching it to Johnny’s number. He recognised it easily as it pinged again.

**_> 21:28 _ ** _– Hey Spidey, you still out on the town?_

**_> 21:28 _ ** _– You want some company?_

It was so strange. Johnny had no idea there was anything wrong between them. He was carrying on like everything was normal between them, because to him it was. But to Peter something had changed.

He couldn’t properly explain it. After the initial anger and misery had dulled enough for logic and rationality to re-establish themselves, Peter had considered the situation as a whole. But despite the fact that _rationally_ he knew that Johnny hadn’t known who he was, and he hadn’t hit him or outwardly insulted him, or done any number of infinitely more awful things, _emotionally_ Peter couldn’t escape the fact that Johnny had humiliated him. And more importantly, he couldn’t escape the fact that no matter how much he flirted with Spiderman, Johnny was never going to want Peter Parker.

**_< 21:32 _ ** _– No_

**_> 21:32 _ ** _– …No you’re not still out or no you don’t want company?_

**_< 21:35 _ ** _– Both_

Almost immediately his phone started to ring, Johnny’s name flashing up. Peter ignored it. It rang again, and again Peter watched until the screen went dark.

**_> 21:40_ ** _– Are you alright?_

**_> 21:53_ ** _– Is everything ok?_

**_> 21:55 _ ** _– Can I help?_

Peter left them all unanswered, staring at each as they came in. Eventually, as he was finally drifting into uneasy sleep, clutching his phone like the lovesick teenager he really, truly was, it went off again.

**_> 22:47 _ ** _– Did I do something wrong?_

He considered the message for a moment, thinking of all the things he could say, all the things he wanted to say. His fingers rested on the keys, wondering where he would even start. Instead, he slid the phone into his bedside drawer and turned his back on it.

* * *

 

Peter managed to avoid his Johnny problem for exactly 9 days.

On the tenth day, he was ambushed on the top of a block of flats in Brooklyn Heights.

He’d been listening to the sounds of the city, trying to work out if the distant screaming was coming from a funfair a few blocks away or someone actually in trouble, when suddenly there was a sharp gust of air and a solid thump behind him.

Whirling round he’d been amazed to find himself face to face with Sue Storm in all her irritated glory.

‘Spiderman.’ She greeted coldly. He nodded, mind whirling.

The main, entirely unhelpful, thought he had was _‘I can’t believe Johnny told on me!’_

‘Invisible woman,’ he acknowledged back, ‘what can I do for you?’

For the thousandth time he thanked the technology gods for the voice modulator that, in this instance, was doing wonders for the tremors in his pubescent voice.

‘You can explain to me why exactly I have a 17 year old at home moping around like his puppy just got run over. And why, when eventually he told me what was going on, it all seemed to come back to you. I’ve seen Johnny emotionally bounce back faster than Reed can physically, but I’ve had nine days of this and it needs to end.’

She stormed up to him, finger wagging furiously.

‘So here I am wondering why my little brother is even in the position to be pining after Spiderman considering the fact that I wasn’t aware they even knew each other. And, for that matter, why Spiderman is being a complete and utter _dick_ about it.

‘And that’s not even mentioning the fact that we are going to have a serious talk about you taking advantage of teenagers. Because despite what he says, he is still basically a child and you are an adult, and if I find out any funny business went on between you and him, then I’m going to make you wish you’d kept your disgusting, grown-ass adult parts to yourself.’

Peter’s cheeks lit up like a firework, a reaction the Storm siblings seemed to have a talent at getting from him. He backed away from the insistent finger, raising his hands defensively. Beneath his mask, his mouth was opening and closing soundlessly around words he couldn’t form. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say.

However, he was saved from having to struggle through some half-formed excuses by a sudden flash of heat and light landing in front of him.

Johnny seemed a little out of breath and his hair was a mess. There was a tense couple of seconds as the siblings stared each other down, studiously ignoring Peter, before Johnny’s shoulders slumped.

‘Sue, what are you doing?’ Johnny whined; smoke still wafting lightly from his suit.

‘Just having a chat with your little _friend_.’

Her smile was nothing short of terrifying and Peter was sure that had he actually been the adult Sue thought he was, he’d still be on the verge of shitting himself. Johnny exhaled loudly, covering his eyes with his hand.

‘Oh my god, you’re so embarrassing. Why can’t you just leave it alone? Do you really need to stick your nose into _all_ of my business?’

‘I do when you’re acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on the teacher.’

Johnny tore his hand from his face and whipped his head round to Peter reflexively, before focusing back on Sue.

‘What the actual _fuck_ Sue, why would you say that in front of him?’

‘Johnny, he’s the one who should be ashamed, not you. You’re still in _high school_. He’s the adult and he should have seen what was happening and handled this situation very differently.’

‘We’re just _friends_. I’m not allowed to have friends now?’

‘You’ve been distraught for days because he didn’t –‘

‘I wasn’t _distraught –‘_

 _‘-_ Because he didn’t text you back. It may have been a little while since I was your age, but I remember that feeling and it wasn’t about my _friends_. You’re my barely legal brother, wouldn’t you be concerned if someone my age was sniffing around one of your friends and jerking them around like this?’

‘That would be completely different –‘

‘Why? It’s an older person preying on an impressionable younger –‘

‘But it’s not like that, it’s –‘

‘It’s exactly like that, I know you feel like you’re an adult but trust me you’ll understand how inappropriate this is when you’re –‘

‘ _I’m sixteen_.’

They both froze instantly, words trailing to nothing. Then, very slowly, they turned to Peter.

‘What did you say?’

Sue had fixed him again with her piercing gaze.

‘I’m sixteen.’ Peter repeated. He didn’t look at Johnny, but even in his peripheries he could see his mouth hanging open.

‘You’re kidding me,’ Sue sighed. It was almost as if she’d be stuck with a pin and all the fight had drained out of her.

‘So, let me get this straight. You’re not a creepy pervert preying on the naivety of my idiot brother, you’re actually an emotionally stunted adolescent stumbling through the murky world of teenage drama. With my idiot brother.’ She ran a hand through her hair. ‘I’d say you were bullshitting me but honestly this makes a lot more sense.’

She threw her hands up, looking to the sky for strength.

‘Right, well now that we know Spiderman is somehow _younger_ than Johnny, which is… something I’m not even going to touch right now, I’m going to leave you two to deal with the rest of your issues by yourselves, and go and have a soothing bath. You,’ she pointed at Peter, ‘stop being a dick and talk to him, I know it’s weird and scary and feelings are hard, but just remember that if you wimp out, I can’t promise that your next visit won’t be from Ben. Johnny’s been driving him crazy with his pining and he’s close to snapping.’

With that she closed her eyes, spread her palms, and shot straight up into the air. The burst of displaced air sent both Johnny and Peter stumbling backwards, their eyes following her path until she’d disappeared into the distance.

‘Your sister is terrifying.’

‘Imagine living with her.’

Peter huffed out a laugh before they lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence.

‘So, are you going to tell me what I did wrong?’ Johnny said when he finally broke the quiet.

Peter must have hesitated slightly too long because after a pause Johnny powered on, the words spilling from his lips like water from a busted levy.

‘Because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to work out what I did and I’ve got nothing. Nothing new anyway. I mean I get it, I’m probably not everyone’s cup of tea but you seemed fine with me, and you laughed at my dumb jokes, so I don’t think that was the issue. And then I thought maybe it was the flirting thing, but you always flirted back and you never told me to stop because I would have if you’d asked, and I’ve been doing it since day one so it’s not like that changed. And I considered it being the age difference thing, but hey, it looks like that’s not really an issue after all because apparently you’re _sixteen_. So yeah, other than a mild case of shock and a week of anxiety, I’ve got absolutely nothing.’

For the first time since he’d landed on the roof, Peter properly met Johnny’s eyes. His stomach twisted at the hopeless defeat he found in them. In all the time he’d known Johnny he’d never seen him anything less than 100% sure of himself. Now he just looked lost.

‘Look,’ he started, entirely unsure of what he was going to say but desperate to make that look disappear, ‘it’s complicated. And I know that sounds like a cop out, and it kind of is, but it’s also the truth. I handled it terribly, and I am really sorry for that, but I just had the epiphany that you were my friend, but I wasn’t really yours, and that kind of messed me up and I freaked out.’

Johnny stepped forward into Peter’s space.

‘Of course you’re my friend.’

‘But I’m not, not really. You’re friends with Spiderman and as much as he’s a part of me, he’s not all of me. He’s not even the main part of me. He’s a mask, and the truth is that beneath that mask you don’t know me and it’s unfair to both of us to pretend that you do.’

The hopelessness in Johnny’s eyes had dimmed into a focused confusion that matched the crease between his brows.

‘Seriously? If this is about the age thing, I honestly couldn’t care less. You’re younger than me, so what? We weren’t friends because I thought you were older. I like you because you’re cool and smart and mean in a way that still makes me smile. I don’t think you were faking that. There’s no _reason_ for you to have faked that and no offense but I don’t get the impression you’re some acting prodigy swinging round New York duping random people for kicks.

‘I get that there are things I don’t know about you. Dude, I’ve known you for two months, if I knew everything about you already I’d be a little worried. I’m not even wearing a mask and there’s a ton of stuff you don’t know about me. Newsflash Spidey, that’s not a caped crusader thing, that’s a plain old boring human thing. We _are_ friends, I don’t care what identity crisis you’re going through. I like you in the suit and I’ll like you out of the suit, because I like _you_.’

Peter graciously ignored the innuendo, instead smiling sadly.

‘But you don’t.’

Johnny threw his hands up, muttering something under his breath Peter couldn’t hear but knew wasn’t complimentary.

‘I mean it Johnny, you can say whatever you want now, but the truth is you don’t like me. The real me. The me without a mask. I thought maybe you would, I kidded myself into thinking that maybe we’d get along regardless, but we don’t. You don’t like me and frankly I didn’t much like you in that instance either.’

There was a beat as Johnny processed what Peter was saying and then his mouth dropped open.

‘Wait,’ Johnny gaped, ‘are you saying we’ve met? Outside of the mask, face to face?’

Peter nodded, looking off into the distance where the sun was beginning to set. Johnny could be an idiot but he wasn’t stupid. He could almost hear the gears whirring in Johnny’s head and he suddenly felt very tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Everything was drained. He winced beneath the mask when Johnny spoke again, voice almost reverent in disbelief.

‘The guy from the football game? The one I –‘

He trailed off uncertainly.

‘Tried to humiliate in front of everyone?’ Peter supplied helpfully.

‘It was you.’ Johnny’s eyes unfocused slightly, like he was recalling their conversation, reliving that moment. Then he ducked his head, regret spilling over his features.

‘Look, I actually felt really bad about how all that went down. My emotions were high and I was nervous about the game and then I saw someone taking pictures and I snapped. I should have handled it better I know, but I didn’t and I couldn’t find you after the game to apologise so I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no idea it was you.’

‘Exactly. I was nothing to you Johnny. I was something new and unfamiliar and you treated me like dirt. I don’t want to be nothing to you, but that’s my point. That part of me is nothing to you because you’ve never really been introduced to it. You don’t know it. ’

The silence returned, though this time more anticipatory than uncomfortable.

‘I’d like to though. Do you think you could forgive me for what I said?’

Peter considered the question briefly, but if he was being honest, it was more for show than anything else. He knew the answer. He’d known it from the moment he’s seen the regret in Johnny’s eyes and realised he needed it to be gone.

‘Yeah. Look, it hurt but I get that it was a mistake. If you’re telling me that it was high emotions and nervousness I can understand that. For what it’s worth I’m sorry too. I wasn’t exactly kind to you either and getting angry and cutting you out probably wasn’t the most mature way to handle the situation. I just got scared, you know. And my ego was a little bruised to be honest. You know how harmful that is to us teenage boys.’

Johnny shrugged, but he was smiling. Peter realised just how much he’d missed that smile. Just how much he’d missed Johnny. In a way he was glad it had all happened. It hadn’t been fun and he could have done without the week and a half of teenage angst, but coming out the other side felt like a fresh start. Johnny seemed to agree as he stuck out his hand, grin still in place.

‘Hi, Johnny Storm. Part time hot-head, full time asshole. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

Peter hesitated, eyes fixed on the hand extended towards him. Johnny’s grin slipped a little, then doubled as Peter shakily pulled off his mask, nervously running his fingers through his hair before taking Johnny’s hand and shaking it.

‘Hi, Peter Parker. Secret sixteen-year-old superhero and complete over-reactor. The pleasure is all mine.’

* * *

 

Things were refreshingly normal after that.

Or as normal as it had ever been between them.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Peter often found himself reclined on rooftops, laughing at something stupid Johnny had said, with his mask lying innocuously on the ground between them, he might have believed the incident had never happened.

But it had, and maybe that was for the best.

Johnny had tiptoed around him for a couple of days, worried that Peter was still annoyed at him, but within a week his façade of subtle politeness had melted back into the tolerable arrogance Peter was big enough to admit he’d missed. Even if it was only internally.

And then, almost 3 weeks after the reunion of the rooftop in Brooklyn, Peter received a text as he was riding his bike home from school. Johnny’s name flashed up on his personal phone and Peter didn’t even bother fighting the fondness blooming in his chest.

**_> 16:36 _ ** _– 8:30, Lady Liberty? I’ll bring dinner_

The temperature had chilled significantly, but the weather was clear and the night was set to be beautiful.

_< **16:38 –** Thank god, I’m broke and starving_

_> **16:39 –** Any preference?_

_< **16:40 –** Lots of it?_

He received a thumbs up in return and tucked his phone back into his pocket, rejoining the downtown traffic.

He spent some time with Aunt May, watching the end of a soap with her and graciously not pointing out the ridiculous plot holes. In turn she patted his knee and asked him about school and his life and whether there were any new boys or girls she should know about. He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions and judging by the smug smile he received when he tried to stutter his way through a speedy exit, that hadn’t changed much.

‘Ah to be young again.’ She sighed, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He pushed her hand away and her laugh followed him as he retreated down the hallway to his room.

She left for her shift shortly after, popping her head round the door to kiss his cheek and wish him a good night. The second the door clicked shut, Peter whipped out the suit, pulling it on as quickly as he could and practically vaulting out of his window.

Luck was on his side and he managed to web onto a helicopter heading out towards Liberty State Park. He dangled upside down above the water, enjoying the whip of the wind and the slightly salty spray. As the helicopter neared the statue he noticed a small glow emanating from her crown, too small to be Johnny, but proof he’d beat Peter there for the first time. He blamed the uptick in his heartbeat on the well-timed dismount from the helicopter rather than anything else.

Johnny startled when Peter popped up over the edge, the Tupperware in his hands fumbling slightly before he got his grip back. He beamed and Peter felt warm even in the cool evening air.

Johnny had set up picnic of sorts, mismatched in a charming way. The faint glow Peter had seen was coming from an old-fashioned oil lamp that Johnny had inexplicably brought with him. It rested on the far corner of a plush patchwork quilt spread across green metal.

Johnny bounced towards Peter and pulled him into a hug, still warm enough around the wrists to make Peter consider whether Johnny had heated the food himself. He wondered if he was overthinking it when they both lingered a little too long.

‘You beat me here, that’s got to be a first.’

‘Oh yeah, I’m full of surprises.’ Johnny winked, he was still close enough that Peter was partially shielded from the night air. Peter wanted to ask him to move closer.

‘You’re full of something alright’ he said instead, ducking away when Johnny went to push his shoulder playfully.

‘Well sit down then. You asked for lots of food and trust me, I did not disappoint.’

He wasn’t lying. By the time Peter had fought his way through several tubs of perfectly prepared magic, he felt like he might explode, but he couldn’t stop himself from popping another strawberry in his mouth and indulging in the explosion of sweetness.

‘Oh my god man,’ he groaned, flat on his back, staring up at a litter of stars, ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’ll do it every day if you promise to keep feeding me.’

‘Do you remember the first night we met up here?’

Peter frowned at the non sequitur, pushing onto his elbows to look at Johnny. He was glowing slightly in the lamplight and the melodramatic part of Peter’s brain wanted to use words like ‘ethereal’ and ‘exquisite’.

‘Uh sure. I was half convinced you weren’t going to show and then you blustered in, told me you’d been turned down by a Victoria Secret model and then gave me a very _artistic_ CV while insisting we were on a date.’

Johnny flashed him a grin.

‘You called me attractive and hired me a week later.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m pretty sure I also called you arrogant, wouldn’t share my food with you and insisted it wasn’t a date. It was a magical night.’

‘Yeah,’ Johnny murmured quietly, voice almost stolen by the strengthening wind, ‘Magical is a pretty good word for it.’

There was something about the way he said it, that put Peter on edge. Something about the way he was avoiding eye contact and leaning back on his hands almost too casually, like he was nervous and trying to hide it. He was about to question him, ask if everything was ok, but Johnny pressed on, still looking out towards the water.

‘Would you still insist this wasn’t a date? If I said it was?’

Peter had no idea what his heart was doing in that moment, but if he had to describe it in one word he would probably choose ‘hyperventilating’. It thumped inside of him, desperate to be heard, desperate to be involved. There was a marching band parading up his ribs and a flurry of fireworks lighting up behind his eyes. His brain was awash with a nervous buzz of white noise. However, instead of erupting into the torrent of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him in celebratory teenage hormones, Peter forced his smile into neutral, rejoicing but unable to pass up the opportunity.

‘I don’t know,’ he mused, watching Johnny’s posture stiffen slightly. ‘Don’t you think you’re a little young for me?’

Johnny whipped round incredulously, and Peter almost felt bad for laughing at the expression on his face. He scowled when he realised Peter was messing with him, but there was a glint in his eye.

‘NYC baby, age is just an age as long as it’s legal.’

‘Then it’s a good thing I’m 17 next week then isn’t it.’

Nervous-Johnny had retreated as quickly as he’d appeared and for that Peter was glad. He suited the cocky grin far too much to be hiding it away.

‘Are you saying yes?’

‘It looks that way, doesn’t it?’

‘You’re an ass.’

‘It looks that way, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m going to kiss you now.’

‘Oh thank god.’

Peter almost expected Johnny to tackle him onto the dirty paper plates spread out behind them or attempt something equally messy and ridiculous, but instead he twisted into Peter’s space, rested one hand gently on his cheek, and pulled him into a kiss so intense Peter was scared the world might shatter around them.

It was soft, simple and electrifying. Peter leaned into it, curling his hand round the back of Johnny’s neck and tilting his head so that the angle was just right. He couldn’t name enough gods to thank for the sudden turn of events but he resolved to send Thor a bouquet when he got a chance, as a gesture to the universal pantheon. Then Johnny shifted closer, mouth opening pliantly, and Peter stopped thinking about Thor, or anyone else that wasn’t the guy finally plastered to his front.

When they eventually pulled apart, Peter felt dazed and blissed out like someone had injected a shit load of morphine straight into his system. From the look of things, Johnny didn’t seem to be faring any better but apparently his mouth hadn’t got the blissed out afterglow memo.

‘I told you I was irresistible.’

Peter rolled his eyes and made to pull away, hand shooting out like he was looking for something to web away to, but Johnny squawked and tugged him back down. His snort was muffled against a quick press of Johnny’s lips.

‘So your sister was right, you were pining over me.’ Peter preened from his spot half in Johnny’s lap.

‘Nah, I was pining over a distinguished older gentleman who could spoil me with expensive gifts and teach me the way of the world.’

‘Must be pretty disappointing then, ending up here with me.’

Peter wondered if Johnny knew his palm was warming where it was pressed against his hip. He wondered it Johnny noticed that his grip tightened against Peter’s suit reflexively. He wondered if he would ever get used to the pressure building in his chest.

He hoped not.

‘I can’t imagine wanting to be here with anyone else.’

‘Even Spiderman?’

Johnny pursed his lips, considering the question. Peter took the moment to snatch up another strawberry, thrilled when Johnny watched him lick his lips clean.

‘Nah, I hear that guy’s cool and all but Peter Parker has him beat on every level.’

‘Ouch, poor Spiderman. Missing out on a date with Johnny Storm to some weakass nerd from Brooklyn. That’s gotta sting.’

The stars were shining above them, the city was at peace below them and Johnny was warm against him. He laughed, tipping Peter’s head back down towards him until their lips were just barely brushing.

‘Somehow, I don’t think he cares.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I can't believe this took me so long, but thanks to everyone who waited patiently and let me know how much they were enjoying it. I hope the finished product lived up to your expectations!


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